


Sorry (Is All That You Can Say)

by josywbu



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bully Gets A Talk, Bullying, Gen, Hospital, No Graphic Description Of Injury, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, THEY DESERVE IT, Tony Stark is a tired dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:24:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josywbu/pseuds/josywbu
Summary: A case of bullying goes too far and lands Peter in the hospital.Here's how Ned, MJ, Tony and Flash handle the situation.





	Sorry (Is All That You Can Say)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was for "Bullying" : “A case of bullying goes too far and Peter ends up in a hospital (not self-harm related, there is a real accident). He is unconscious so his friends visit and Tony and May try to get a clear picture of what happened but everyone has a different side” (irondadgroupie on tumblr)
> 
> I know I said I'd try to finish all prompts in April but if we're being realistic that ain't gonna happen. The next prompt will be part 2 of a series, too, so I kinda gotta write part 1 first. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and Happy Easter to everyone who's celebrating! <3

******_Ned_ **

Oh man. Today really wasn’t his day.

It had started with a surprise chemistry quiz in first period and while Ned was anything but stupid, Chemistry really wasn’t his best subject and to get good grades he actually had to put effort in. Unlike some chemistry-genius-superhero he knew who had finished with ten minutes to spare.

Peter had aced the quiz, of course, and while he did try to look contrite during lunch it just wasn’t the same when he wasn’t as miserable as Ned felt. There seemed to be something else on his best friend’s mind all day that kept him from tapping into his empathy all the way to really get Ned’s distress.

Usually he would’ve asked but as it was, he was sulking about his own shitty day. He was allowed to those, right?

After lunch they had gym which, you know, just made everything worse in general because it was _gym_. There was no rope climbing today but the joy over the announcement quickly dissipated the second their teacher got out the basketballs.

Now that was just great.

Running around was _not_ his thing. Least of all while having to dribble a stupid orange ball that he could swear had a mind of its own. And catching. Also not one of his talents. Or throwing for that matter. Why did this day have to rub everything he wasn’t good at in? Shouldn’t shit like that be evenly spread between a couple of days, if not months? Was fate really that cruel?

(Yes, maybe he was being a little dramatic.)

But gym was almost over and after that he could finally put an end to the horrible, awful, depressing portion of this day and move on to better and brighter things. Like math homework.

While Ned squatted down to get his water bottle he mindlessly rubbed his upper arm that had taken a hit from a stray basketball earlier in the game. Great, that was going to be another bruise. He was just preparing to take a sip when he heard a loud crash and then a few seconds of complete, terrifying silence.

Frowning he turned around to see what the ensuing commotion was about.

A crowd had started to form right next to their playing field on the other side of the hall. He could make out Emily yelling for the teacher who was already hurrying over towards them. Some other girls were squatting down next to whoever must have fallen and even MJ looked slightly worried and kind of angry which were more emotions than she usually showed anyone.

That was his first hint that something was wrong.

Instinctually Ned tried to make out Peter in the crowd, expecting his friend to be on the side lines as long as he wasn’t actively needed.

Even before the spider bite crowds of screaming people had tended to get to him and Ned was worried about him slipping into another sensory-overload-induced-anxiety attack. He only got more worried when he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Pushing himself back up, the sweat dripping from his forehead to the floor almost making him slip in the process, he started running towards his classmates. His sneakers squeaked hitting the linoleum floor, his heart that hadn’t yet calmed down from the game earlier was now threatening to jump out of his chest and his lungs were screaming but he didn’t pay his body any mind because the longer he went without getting a visual on his stupid best friend the more anxious he got.

Surely Peter wouldn’t… No, he was a superhero! He wouldn’t just collapse in gym class. That was a thing that could’ve happened to pre-bite Peter who always forgot his inhaler. The scrawny teenager that could barely finish the first lapse and refused to hand in his doctor’s note so he wouldn’t have to. It would not happen to this crazy enhanced version of his best friend who jumped from skyscrapers and did back flips for shits and giggles.

No way.

He pushed past Flash and his idiot friends, only noting in passing that the boy seemed a lot more subdued than he had before. Maybe someone tripping in gym could get even an asshole like Flash to shut up for once in his life.

Once he got to the heart of the commotion, though, the thought completely slipped his mind because there, on the floor, lay his idiot best friend. Unnervingly unmoving, eyes closed and with blood slowly leaking from the brown mob of curls.

_Holy crap._

“What the hell happened?”

He didn’t really hear the answer to the question, too preoccupied with his unconscious friend. He only gave himself five seconds to internally freak out before he dropped down next to him and started shaking him, trying to get him to wake up. Without success.

 _Okay, Ned._ _Think, think, thin –_

Mister Stark!

Mister Stark always made Peter call him when he was hurt. Surely Iron-Man would be able to help, right?

His left hand was resting on Peter’s chest as gently as possible while he started flailing his right to the side. “Get me Peter’s phone. Right now,” he yelled at whoever was standing closest to him.

He could do this. He just had to call Mister Stark and the man would know what to do. He would get Peter to wake back up. He would get the best doctors to help Peter. Everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

_It had to be._

 

 

**_MJ_ **

“How’s he doing?”

Her voice sounded foreign in her own ears. Too quiet, too unsure in the empty hall that led to the school’s emergency room. She had disliked hospitals ever since visiting her grandma after a surgery and this part of the building looked enough like one to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver run down her spine even though she wasn’t really cold. That didn’t stop the chilly feeling in her bones, though.

She tried not to show how uncomfortable she was as she plopped down on one of the seats, leaving another empty between her and Ned who was still in his gym clothes that were clinging to his sweaty skin.

The boy looked up from where he had been staring at his fidgeting hands and tried to send her something akin to a smile. It was more of a grimace than anything else but she could appreciate that he tried to put her at ease.

“He’s going to be okay. The paramedics are prepping him for transport.” He sighed and suddenly looked lost, where his exuberant nature usually filled every room he was in. He was a lot like Peter in that way but with a pure lightness that came from not having experienced any personal tragedies yet. Hesitantly she reached out to give his shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze before awkwardly letting her hand drop back down to her lap.

Ned looked thankful regardless.

“Mister Stark wanted to get him transferred to the Tower but the emergency doctor said it’s safer to bring him to a hospital with a department for neurosurgery. Just in case,” he trailed off with another sigh. “They don’t know what’s going on inside his head yet but since he hit it somehow they’re suspecting a contusion. Which isn’t too bad at least from what I googled. They’ll be running a CT scan when they’re at the hospital and Mister Stark promised to call as soon as there are any news.”

“He’s going to be okay,” she tried sounding optimistic, something she didn’t usually put much effort into, “I’m guessing Stark won’t let him be anything else. He’s gonna get the best doctors money can buy.”

She realized with a start that she wasn’t even mad about some billionaire having access to better medical care right then. She had watched said billionaire rush into the building, clad in a three piece suit that probably matched the important meeting he had been called out of, his usually flawlessly styled hair a mess and he had looked as worried as she felt. If not more.

There had been a sort of fire in his eyes that she hadn’t believed him capable of. Something fierce and unconditionally loving. He had made no pretense that he would do anything to make this better and that made her like him just a wee bit more.

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, not picking up on her inner musings about the man both him and Petr idolized more than she thought people should be idolized. “Helen Cho is already on her way from California.”

The way he said it, like it was no big deal that one of the most renown medical doctors in the world had just dropped everything to fly out to New York to look after a random teenager was nothing unheard of, made her pause. Even if said teenager was Tony Stark’s mentee.

She frowned. “Does she do that often?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Mister Stark goes a little over board sometimes,” he told her, corners of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. “He made her come here to treat Peter when he had the flu last month. But I think she likes him or she wouldn’t be doing it. That reminds me-”

Michelle cocked her head to the side when he stopped midsentence, encouraging him to keep going.

“Uh, Mister Stark and the paramedics asked me what happened and I realized that I – I didn’t even know.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I was on the other side of the gym and I only got there when he was already unconscious and –“

“Flash tripped him,” she interrupted his rambling, flinching inwardly at how detached it sounded when she felt anything but.

Suddenly there was a surge of anger in her chest, pushing her worry to the side as she sat up straighter. Anger was easier to focus on than concern. She hated being the scared and helpless girl it turned her into. “He held out his leg on purpose when Peter was getting off the field and collecting the last balls to help clean up and he could see that he wasn’t looking so, like the asshole he is, he tripped him.”

“Figures,” Ned sighed again.

She really hated how often he made that sound. It sounded too much like he was okay with this, as if that’s just a thing that happened and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Why aren’t you angry?” she all but snapped, “That piece of … Flash keeps bullying the two of you and you’re never doing anything about it! You just let it happen! And now Peter’s unconscious because that – that _asshole_ tripped him on purpose. How are you not _livid_?”

Her heart was thumping uncomfortably loudly in her chest when she met Ned’s gaze that had snapped up some time during her rant. She didn’t know what she had expected but it hadn’t been the flash of indignation in his eyes and the grim line his mouth was set in.

“You want to know why I’m not angry?” he repeated incredulously, voice slow and quiet and so very different from what she was used to from Ned Leeds.

A part of her realized then that she had stepped out of line. They weren’t friends after all. She didn’t do friends.

“I’m going out of my mind with worry for my best friend,” he told her steadily but his voice started rising, “I’m scared shitless that it might be real bad and of course I’m angry. I’m angry whenever Flash starts bullying Peter. I _hate_ that there’s nothing he ever does about it but I’ve known Peter long enough to know that he prefers it this way.”

“Wha –“

“No,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand and, jumping to his feet, he started pacing in the narrow hallway. “He prefers being Flash’s favorite victim because that way he doesn’t go looking for someone else. And of course that’s messed up but try telling the idiot that. There’s nothing I can do to change his mind. You know what I can do, though?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question so she didn’t answer even when he kept glaring at her.

“I can be his friend and pick him up when Flash’s teasing does get to him. I can be his best friend and spend time with him and make sure he knows that that’s just one bully talking and that he’s none of the things getting thrown in his face. And that’s hard and it’s an unfair world and it makes me _so_ _mad_ but he deserves to have someone in his corner. So I do that, every day. Because he’s my best friend and I love this stupid self-sacrificing idiot. But you don’t get to lecture me about not being angry enough when he’s hurt because you do none of that.”

Ned seemed to inflate after his outburst, continuing with a soft and tired voice and she felt hot red shame creep into her cheeks.

“You might not be bullying him like Flash does but you aren’t nice to us either. You call us losers and barely glance at us and I know you consider us friends and it’s your warped up way of showing you care but sometimes he just needs someone to be nice who genuinely cares for him. Like today, he was already having a bad day and I didn’t.. I didn’t ask him about it. Maybe he would’ve seen it coming if I had helped him before.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, anger vanished only leaving shame and regret that filled her whole being. Ned was _right_. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled softly, a small raise of the corner of his lips, eyes open and gentle and not condemning like she felt they should be. “You don’t have to apologize. Just… think about it, will you? He doesn’t blame you, you know. And I’m just… I’m really glad he has Mister Stark in his corner now, too.”

And that – that Tony Stark, the man she made out to be the Anti-Christ more often than not, the spoiled billionaire, the poster child of emotionally constipated had gotten his head out of his ass before she had to openly care about Peter Parker – that stung.

“I’m glad he has him, too.”

****

 

**_Tony_ **

There were two opposing parts battling for dominance in Tony’s body at the moment.

The one that had been there all his life, hectic and jittery and unable to stand still when it counted. It had his entire being screaming to pace in the small hospital room, to release the tension by doing _something_ , anything at all. He felt like every fiber, every cell, was moving on a speed so high they were effectively vibrating, making his hands shake and heart flutter when he didn’t comply with the motion.

The other part was currently winning.

This part was a new, barely-there, still opening bud but for how young it was, it was all-encompassing and inevitable. It made his muscles cramp with the need to comfort and protect and it wouldn’t let him move even an inch from where he was standing at the top of the bed in the intensive care unit of some Midtown hospital that held his single most prized possession. His fingers were itching to run through the messy curls but he wouldn’t relent, too scared to jostle any of the devices currently attached to the kid.

The kid - _Peter, his Peter_ \- looked impossibly small in the large bed surrounded by beeping machines, countless IV stands and devices Tony wasn’t completely sure what they were supposed to do but also didn’t care about.

Much like Tony he was still, too.

Unnaturally still for an enhanced teenager that could talk for hours on end without missing a beat, who would make Tony lose his mind with his hyper nature that had him almost topple from whatever he was sitting on every other day and who went slinging through New York in his free time.

So he made do, yielding to the ever-growing parental instincts in his chest, and rested his hand on his kid’s arm, thumb brushing over the warm skin in an effort to soothe him even though he knew there were so many drugs running through his system that the touch would most likely not even register.

Waiting in hospital rooms with nothing to do, no way to fix a thing, never did get easier he had come to realize.  There was always an internal struggle of whether to be mad or relieved, devastated or thankful, glum or hopeful.

A timid knock on the door made him snap out of his spinning thoughts, mind quickly running through possible intruders – friend or foe – and coming to a standstill when a teenager that wasn’t Ned poked his head past the door. The unfamiliar boy’s eyes went wide and hadn’t he been so emotionally drained, Tony would’ve scoffed at the ridiculousness of the scene. As it was he just squeezed Peters hand more tightly in a wordless promise, a silent vow to protect.

“Can I help you?”

“I, uh, I’m sorry, I, uh, didn’t, uh, didn’t mean to- to intrude, sir,” the boy stammered, hand curling around the door so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “I was just, uh, but, I mean.. I’m just gonna… gonna go, sir.”

“Wait.” Tony stopped him before the kid could turn around and flee the scene. Something seemed to be on that boy’s mind and it seemed important enough to make the trip to the hospital, find out the kid’s room number and muster up the courage to come see him when they evidently weren’t close friends. “Are you here to see Peter?”

“Ye- yes,” came the reply, almost a whisper before he suddenly seemed to be reminded of something, straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

It reminded Tony so much of himself at that age, with Howard’s voice always in his head telling him to _stand tall, speak clearly, act strong and demand respect,_ that he had to mentally take a step back from the scene and the onslaught of memories of being constantly afraid to focus on the boy at hand.

This was new, too, embracing the innate empathy that had been buried deeply by an ingrained need to deflect. He tried not to dwell on how natural it felt, how satisfyingly fulfilling, and instead decided to blame it completely on the unconscious teenager whose heartrate gave him a calming beat to focus on.

“Come on in, then. What’s your name?” he asked him, the hand that wasn’t holding on to his kid running through his own hair in a futile attempt to sort it. Paired with a crinkled suit and deep lines of worry marring his face this was admittedly not his best look.

There had been moments in his life when he would’ve cared about his appearance in a public hospital but his priorities had shifted drastically since then. Sometimes it felt that everything had shifted until a teenager from Queens had become the new axis of his world. The one thing everything else was circling around. The sun of his galaxy.

“Eugene, sir. Eugene Thompson.”

Tony watched closely as he shut the door behind very carefully before turning around to face the bed. He seemed unsure of himself, hands tugging on designer sleeves, eyes darting all over the room, never resting anywhere for too long, always avoiding to look at either of the other men.

Something in his tired brain had peeked up at the name but it took him an embarrassingly long moment to match the boy’s unease and name with a fitting story. He started clenching his hands to fists involuntarily, anger roaring in his chest, before his new instinct took over and he forcefully relaxed his grip on Peter.

Peter was his priority.

“You’re Flash, aren’t you? You’re the one who put him here.”         

“I –“ For a moment the offender seemed at a loss for words, caught, and he was looking like he was about to bolt through the door but then, in the time it took Tony to blink, his entire demeanor changed. Flash met his gaze, shoulders hunched, wide eyes turning glassy and hands falling to his sides unmoving. “Yes, sir. It’s my fault he’s here and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I never meant to actually hurt him, I–“

“But you did, didn’t you?” Tony interrupted, protectiveness flaring up in his chest and making way for the anger he had been trying to breathe through. This boy, this child was the reason his kid had to be pumped to the rim with anesthesia so they could drill a hole into his skull to monitor his intracranial pressure. And he was _right here_. Right in front of Tony and he wasn’t fighting back.

“What did you think would happen when you tripped someone? That they start flying and end the grandiose routine with a bow to a round of applause?” he spat, vision turning red and dark and gruesome. “Tell me, _Flash_ , what _did_ you think would happen? What were you hoping to achieve?”

The boy flinched at the harsh words but didn’t back away in the slightest, just hung his head and murmured another apology, taking it all in.

And, dammit, Tony knew he deserved to be called out and by god he wanted to be the one to do it because he had _hurt Peter_. There was something in the way he stood, though, that made him stop in his tracks. It put his anger on hold, something like recognition making the blood rush in his head.

That boy looked like he had expected the harsh words and while he had flinched when Tony had raised his voice at first, he had adapted quickly and hadn’t even tried to move away. The only sign of self-defense were his arms that twitched at his side as if they were itching to cover his face.

Suddenly Tony was incredibly tired. His head was spinning, he felt dizzy and guilty and broken down to the very core.

“Flash,” he tried more calmly this time, rubbing a hand over the scar on his chest and trying to swallow past the distaste the name elicited in his mouth and beckoning him closer to the bed. When he followed suit, he watched him settle his gaze on Peter’s skinny frame, eyes roaming the various monitors before settling on the pale face.

“Tell me what you see,” he prompted the teenager whose gaze snapped up, brows furrowed. He looked even more confused now that Tony wasn’t yelling anymore and Tony the worst thing about that was that he _understood_.

All of the sudden he ached for the reassuring contact of Peter curled into his side, breathing and happy and alive, to keep the demons from entering his mind but tried to push it away, had to push it away.

“I, uh,” Flash swallowed, “I see Pe – Peter Parker in a hospital bed and I see that it’s my fault, sir.” The last part was barely more than a whisper, guilt heavy on his tongue.

Tony nodded, not meeting Flash’s searching gaze in favor of watching Peter. “Do you know what I see?”

“No, sir.”

He looked up then, trying to convey how much he meant every word, keeping his gaze open and not threatening. “I see the strongest kid I’ve ever met.” Quite literally, he didn’t say though the thought made his lips twitch. “I see a genius-level smart kid, well on his way to surpass me one of these days. I see a kid who is always smiling, who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and who cares so damn much about everyone around him. I see a kid who has seen more than a kid his age should have and who has lost more than you can imagine but who refuses to become a cynical asshole because of it.”

_Not like I did. He’s already so much better than I could ever be._

He squeezed Peter’s hand, breath hitching when he didn’t squeeze back.

“Did you know he told me about you?”

“No, sir.” There was a flash of fear in the boy’s eyes then and while it satisfied a very feral part of Tony he also despised being the one to put it there. He had made a vow many years ago to never install that kind of fear in a child.

“He didn’t want to, either. I had to tickle it out of him when he got home an hour late after detention sporting a bruise because he supposedly got into a fight. Do you know what he told me?”

“N- no, sir.” Tony watched his whole body turn rigid, observed how his gaze never wavered from his and how his hands tremble. Despite himself, he tried to shoot him a reassuring smile.

“He told me you were having a rough time and how your mum was close to tears the last time she picked you up and how you were holding your shoulder funny. He stopped me from taking a suit, blast your house and tell you exactly what I think of people shoving my kid into lockers,” he told him, trying to keep his voice even and without a trace of malice.

“Tha- I’m not sure what –“

He decided to give the fidgety teenager a moment to sort his thoughts and took the time to brush a few loose curls from his own teenager’s forehead. The motion was familiar, calming and it gave him the strength to press on.

“The thing is,” he sighed, hand still resting on Peter’s forehead as if he was trying to summon the boy’s goodness, “I understand shitty family. I get scary fathers and crying mums,” he swallowed hard and met Flash’s gaze again. “I know weird bruises you can’t explain away.”

“I – I don’t – I’m not –”

“Yeah, neither am I,” Tony scoffed before softening his gaze and trying to school his voice into a stern but kind tone. “What I’m trying to say - and believe me I’m bad at this and would rather be doing anything else - is that while I get why you are acting out, I want you to know that I won’t let this happen ever again. I will not let you keep tormenting my kid because you’re having a tough life. I will not stand by and let you ruin his days and land him in hospitals, are we understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

They stood quietly together for a while, the atmosphere in the room while not exactly comfortable wasn’t dripping with fear and anger anymore. It was calm, peaceful. Like the sea after a storm.

To Tony’s surprise it was Flash who broke the silence. “I thought he saw me and – and I thought he saw me putting out my leg for him to trip over. I- I thought he’d just, stumble and drop the balls I- I never wanted – I’m so sorry, Mister Stark.”

The older man nodded, the sigh he let out feeling like every piece of resentment he had carried for decades on his chest. “I appreciate that but it’s not me you should apologize to.”

“I know but,” there was a heavy pause, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he replied because he did, “but you don’t have to be. Not of him. As much as I hate how gullible he is sometimes, if you apologize to Peter he will forgive you, no questions asked. And if you start being a decent human being you might even find a friend in him. I think you could need good people in your life, and Peter is the best.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Flash whispered, “For- for your words and, uh, for not blasting my house.”

Tony looked up and grinned. “You’re welcome but don’t do it again or I still might.”

****

 

**_Peter_ **

When Peter woke up it took him a lot longer than it normally would to realize that this wasn’t the setting he usually woke up in.

His head was angled in a way that when he did manage to pry his clotty eye lids open the first thing he saw was his mentor. Blinking he tried to clear his view of the man who hadn’t yet realized his charge was awake and whose gaze was fixated on a spot to Peter’s right with a heavy hand resting on the boy’s arm.

Mindful of the buzzing in his head he tried a smile. “Hi T’ny.”

“Kid?” The heavy hand tightened around his arm before loosening and rubbing a calloused thumb over his skin. A silent welcome back.

“Oh baby.” A soothing voice on his left and a delicate touch of a familiar hand. _Aunt May_. Her voice alone eased his headache tremendously.

“Dude!” It sounded a little breathless, a little forced- cheerful and impossibly relieved. His heart warmed at hearing his best friend’s voice and he was about to reply when he picked up two other voices.

“Peter?”

He blinked again, moving his head as slowly as possible to make out the people they belonged to, grateful when May’s hand found his forehead and her cool fingers started running through his hair.

MJ and Flash were standing at the foot of his bed, both looking confusingly contrite and his brain was too tired, too fuzzy to come up with a good enough explanation as to why but he figured since _they_ were the ones at _his_ hospital bed he was entitled to ask.

“Whataya doin’ here?”

It wasn’t that he was scared of them, uncomfortable was probably a better word or self-conscious maybe, but he was tired, he was hurting and he really, childishly just didn’t want to deal with any of that right now.

He had his family on his side, though. Tony to his left, May to his right with Ned next to her. They were shielding him, literally and metaphorically, from anything that might be thrown his way and he felt himself somewhat relax once that thought had settled in.

His classmates seemed to have come to the same conclusion and for a change they were the ones who looked self-conscious when they exchanged a look. (Since when did MJ exchange a look with Flash? Maybe this was a fever dream.)

“We wanted to apologize,” they said in unison again and hadn’t he been so sure that his aunt’s and mentor’s touch were real he would’ve bet on this being a fantasy. Not just because they were so in tune but also… since when did they apologize? What were they apologizing for?

Almost as if they’d read his mind, they continued.

“I haven’t been very nice to you.” MJ said, fidgeting with the sketch book in her hands “I see you as a friend and I realized that I shouldn’t treat my friends like that so… I’m sorry.” She paused, meeting Peter’s gaze and he smiled again, about to tell her that it’s okay when she plowed ahead, taking a step forward as she pulled a page from her sketch book and gave it to him.

It was a picture of Ned and him during lunch time. They were both laughing, bend over their respective meals with a juice box sitting between them. “Nerds are cool” was written down in neat handwriting in the center.

“And I’m sorry, too.”

Before he had the chance to react to the nice gesture, Flash took over, voice rushed.

“For.. for everything,” the words caught in his throat, “For landing you here and for being an asshole and making you miserable for no reason. I’m – I’m gonna stop doing that, I promise.” With that he stuck out his hand which Peter, completely taken aback, took and shook.

“It’s okay, guys,” he tried with a crooked voice that hurt his throat, “Apologies accepted and… thank you.”

He frowned then, a thought occurring to him and he turned his head to look at his mentor.

“Was Doctor Strange here?”

At that Tony barked out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth and gentleness when his hand replaced his aunt’s to ruffle his hair. “No, for once our strange friend had nothing to do with this.”

So not a different dimension then.

He wouldn’t rule out the fever dream quite yet but for the time being he was content and tired enough to just take what they said at face value. He would probably worry about it some other time. Right now he was surrounded by his family and not-enemies-might-be-friends and that was good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Ned, MJ and Flash so I'd appreciate feedback!


End file.
